


Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not?

by Avidreader6



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint taking care of Phil, Fake Marriage, First Kiss, Getting Together, Injured Phil, Love Confessions, M/M, Mission Fic, Wedding Rings, safe houses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-24 09:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9716069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avidreader6/pseuds/Avidreader6
Summary: Clint and Phil escape to a safe house after they are discovered. It was hard enough to having to pretend to be Phil's husband throughout the mission, but now that they are stuck together waiting for evac, Clint's feelings for his handler close to the surface and just about to bubble over.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orderlychaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Chaos! Hope you enjoy!

Clint reached the safe-house first and immediately went through each and every room looking for Phil. He had been sure Phil would get here first. (Phil always managed to get to whatever safe-house they were using first. It was a rule.) But as he went through each room, taking stock of their supplies and vantage points, Clint found no sign of him.

Quietly, he called out. “Coulson? Are you here?”

Clint scowled when all he got was silence and tried to think back over the mission and what could have gone wrong. Everything had been going just as it should but when they had met up with the targets today, things had quickly gone south and they'd had to change their plans on the fly. They had tried to fight their way out and escape together, but it soon became clear they would have an easier time getting away if they split up. Clint had hated the plan, but he trusted Phil and knew it was their best option. When Phil had given him the signal, he’d reluctantly taken off in the opposite direction and hoped most of the bad guys would choose to follow him. 

After going through the safe-house one more time, just in case, and finding no sign of Phil, Clint went into the tiny living room and collapsed on the beat up, overstuffed couch. This was definitely one of SHIELD’s nicer safe-houses, run down enough so people wouldn’t give it a second look, but comfortable. Leaning his head back, Clint watched the ceiling fan spin and fought the urge to sleep. Getting away from his goons had left him with a black eye that was quickly turning purple, a headache, and a few cuts on his arms from when he'd had to avoid one knife-wielding goon. All Clint could really focus on, though, was that his head was pounding and all he wanted to do was sleep but he needed to stay alert. Phil would show up soon, he had to, and Clint did not want to be asleep on the couch when he finally did.

“Barton? Wake up, Barton.” Phil’s voice was tired and strained and as Clint struggled to do as Phil asked, all he could think about was that he wanted to make Phil smile and call him Clint again. “I swear to God, Barton, you better not be injured.” There was a pause and when Phil spoke again, there was a tinge of fear in his voice. “Clint? Please? I need to know you’re okay.”

Clint’s eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring up into the concerned blue eyes of Phil Coulson. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, he’d really fought to stay awake. “Phi-I mean-Coulson?”

Coulson’s shoulders relaxed and he took a seat next to Clint. “The one and only.”

“When’d you get here?” Clint kept his eye on Coulson. He’d noticed him wince slightly when he sat and that probably meant bruised, or possibly, broken ribs.

“About five minutes ago. You didn’t even flinch when I came in.” Coulson examined his hands for a second and bit his lip. “That’s why I was worried you had a concussion and blacked out.”

Cheeks heating, Clint thumbed the gold band on his left ring finger. It had quickly become an unconscious habit throughout the op and he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Sorry to worry you, sir.”

Clint watched Coulson stiffly reach out to try and comfort him, but he hopped up off the couch before Coulson could make contact. His feelings were too close to the surface and Phil being kind to him right now could send them over the top.

“It’s okay, Clint.” Coulson tried to stand and winced again before sitting back down on the couch. 

“I know that.” Clint’s voice sharp and edgy and he hated it. “I just need….I need to pace a little. I’m still wound up.” Clint started to pace in front of the couch, wanting to make what he’d just said the truth. He also hoped that a little distance would keep him from checking to see if Phil, dammit he had to go back to calling him Coulson, was still wearing his fake wedding band.

“Alright, Clint.” Coulson’s voice was soft and tired and Clint hated himself even more for snapping at him. "Got ahold of Fury when I got in. Told him what happened and he's arranging our pick up." 

Clint took the information in and let his eyes roam over Phil. “Can I check your ribs, sir? You’ve winced every time you’ve moved.”

Coulson tried to smile, but it was pained. “Only if you let me check you over for a concussion. I’m still not convinced you don't have one.”

Smiling at Phil, Clint tried for his usual bravado. “Deal. I’ll go get the first aid kit. The one in the bathroom had a little bit of everything we need.”

“Thank you, Clint.” 

Clint went to grab the first aid kit and brought it back into the living room. Taking his seat next to Coulson again, Clint watched as Coulson carefully shifted on the couch so they were face to face, and from the strain on his face, it was obvious it was hurting him to do so. Clint wished there was something he could do something to make it easier on him. He hated seeing Coulson in pain.

He started to lean forward to get at Coulson’s buttons so he could get the shirt off but stopped himself. “Um...do you need help with your shirt?”

Coulson looked at the hands reaching out and nodded. “That would be nice, Clint. Right now it hurts to move my right arm even just a little bit.”

Scooting forward until there was barely any space between them, Clint took a deep breath and got Coulson’s shirt unbuttoned and eased it off his left arm first before slowly sliding it down his right. Coulson let out a hiss when Clint had to move his arm and Clint froze. “Sir? Do you need a break?”

“Keep going, Clint." Coulson grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. "Just get it done.”

Clint finished getting the shirt off and carefully lifted Coulson’s undershirt over his head to get a look at his chest. If Coulson hadn’t been injured, Clint would have enjoyed being able to undress and look his fill, but seeing the dark line of bruises along Coulson’s side and chest changed things. Gently feeling along the bruises, Clint tried to ignore the harsh grunts and whines escaping Coulson’s mouth so he could focus on making sure the ribs were actually just bruised. 

“Well, sir looks like they’re just bruised. I’ll crack an ice pack and dig out some painkillers and you’ll be good as new before you know it.”

As soon as Clint had handed over the pills, Coulson swallowed them and reached for the ice pack. Clint activated it and batted Coulson’s hand away so he could wrap it against Coulson’s ribs himself with a bandage. 

“Thank you, Clint. How are you feeling? Any-”

Clint gave Coulson his usual lopsided grin. “Just a headache. No dizziness, I’m not confused, I’ll even prove it.” Clint looked into Coulson’s eyes until Coulson tore his gaze away and motioned for him to go on. “As you can see, my eyes are clear. My name is Clint Francis Barton, agent of SHIELD, my handler is Philip Coulson and I’m an Avenger. How’s that?” 

Coulson looked Clint in the eye and sighed. When he finally spoke, his words were slow but happy. “Perfect, Clint.” 

“You need to rest, sir. I can go make myself busy if you want to sleep on the couch, or I can help you get to the bed.” Clint started to get up but stopped when he saw Coulson start to list forward toward him, hand outstretched. “Woah, sir. What are you doing?” 

“Don’t go.” Coulson watched Clint, worry over Clint disappearing clear in his eyes. “Please?” 

Easing Coulson back onto the couch, Clint shifted closer and checked the ice pack. “I’ll stay. But try and rest, okay?”

“Alright, Clint.” Coulson nuzzled Clint’s shoulder and his eyes started to close. Before he fell asleep, he added, just low enough for Clint to hear. “Stop calling me, sir.”

Clint chuckled and watched Phil drift off. Once he was sure Phil had sunk into a deeper sleep, he carefully maneuvered him until he was lying on his uninjured side. When Phil didn’t wake, he went into the bedroom and took the comforter off the bed and covered the sleeping man with it, making sure not to dislodge the ice pack. Staring down at the man he cared for so much, Clint was not even aware of what he was doing until after he’d kissed Phil on the cheek and moved his vigil to the nearby armchair. 

Looking down at the ring on his finger, Clint once again reminded himself to get a grip. Now that the mission was scrapped, the ring would come off and he and Coulson would go back to being handler and agent. 

Clint had had a crush on his handler since their first mission together and Phil had listened to his suggestions. After that, it had only gotten worse when he’d watched Phil show the junior agents just how much power was hiding underneath those suits. He had watched Phil spar with those cocksure kids for over an hour before forcing himself to leave and find something productive to do. Nat had tried to prod him into actually asking Coulson out, but Clint was a pro at finding reasons and excuses not to do it. Nat still tried but now, Clint just smiled and pretended not to hear her. 

He had almost run out of excuses when Loki happened and gave Clint the ultimate reason for not acting on his feelings. When Fury had finally given them the news that Phil was alive, Clint had just been so happy to see Phil he had let his feelings move to the backburner. Having Phil as his handler again was enough for Clint, even though Natasha continued to poke and prod at him to try and get him to say something to Phil. 

Unfortunately for Clint, this mission had brought each and every romantic feeling he had screaming to the surface. Having to pretend to be Phil’s husband had been torture. Knowing every kiss, every hand at the small of his back, and every loving look was for the benefit of others had hurt, but what was worse was that Clint loved every second of it and he wouldn’t have changed a thing. Even now, he still craved the feel of Phil’s lips against his, even if it was just for those watching. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Shaking himself, Clint looked over at where Phil was now sitting up on the couch, comforter wrapped around his shoulders. He looked so warm and approachable and Clint wished he could just go and tuck himself under the blanket with Phil and not think about anything. 

Instead, he tried for his usual smartass attitude. “Not sure they’re worth that much.”

Clint expected a laugh or for Phil to throw a pillow at him, but instead, he got a frown. “Barton-”

“It’s a joke, Coulson.”

Phil pulled the blanket closer around himself. “Still, you’re a valuable asset and a brilliant agent, and I value your opinions.”

“I know that, sir.”

“Thought I asked you to stop calling me, sir?” Phil’s voice was light and teasing now and Clint could feel the heat spreading across his own cheeks. 

“Habit.” Clint thumbed the ring on his finger again and tried to slip back into his usual post op headspace. “Hungry, Coulson? Saw some soup cans in the kitchen that didn’t look too out of date.”

“That sounds great, Clint. Want some help?”

Normally, Clint would have said yes without even thinking about it. He liked having Phil close and talking to him, but now Clint thought a little space was probably for the best.

“Nah, I got it, boss. You rest. Do you need any more meds?”

Phil looked ready to argue, but something about the look on Clint’s face stopped him. “I’m doing okay, Clint. Shout if you need me.”

Clint escaped to the tiny kitchen hoping that if he focused on getting soup cans opened and into a pan he could stop thinking about Phil sitting on the couch looking sleep rumpled and soft and kissable. 

As the soup warmed, Clint found a couple of bowls and filled two glasses with water from the tap. “Get it together, Barton. It was just a mission. You’re supposed to be a professional and not let crushes get in the way.”

Clint knew talking to himself was not a good idea, but he needed to get a handle on his feelings somehow. “Should just take off the damn ring. That would probably help. Every time I look at the fucking thing, all I can think about is-”

“All you can think about is what?”

“Fuck.”

“Clint?”

Turning around slowly, Clint shut off the stove and faced Phil. “Um…”

“Just tell me, Clint. Nothing bad is going to happen if you’re honest with me.”

Hearing Phil’s calm and soothing voice and seeing the concern in his eyes, Clint just wanted to let it all spill out. “Phil, I don’t, I can’t. What if?”

Phil stepped closer and reached out with his left hand for Clint’s. The moment Phil threaded their fingers together, Clint felt the metal of the ring on Phil’s finger and looked up. “Phil?”

Phil tried for a smile, it wasn’t his usual grin. It was tentative yet hopeful. “Don’t want to take it off. I liked being your husband, even if it was just for a mission. It let me pretend…”

Squeezing Phil’s hand, Clint moved into his space and looked deep into his eyes. “Pretend what?” Phil didn’t say anything, just looked down at the floor. “Pretend we loved each other for real? And shared a bed? And our lives?”

Phil nodded jerkily, eyes still on the floor, and Clint beamed. “That’s why mine is still on. I liked being yours, Phil. I treasured every kiss, and every time you held my hand, and every time you looked at me like I was the whole world. God, every time you introduced me as ‘your husband’ I felt a thrill.”

“I did too.” Phil’s response was only a whisper, but Clint knew he’d heard it.

“You did too, what?”

“Liked all of that.” Phil looked up and met Clint’s eyes again. “Do you have any idea how it felt going to those parties and having people see you on my arm? Knowing they were all trying to figure out how I landed someone as amazing as you.”

Clint scoffed. “Yeah, I heard all the gold digger rumors.”

Phil’s face clouded over and he cupped Clint’s cheek. “Don’t. You’re so much more than you think, Clint. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Phil? I...you’re so…” Clint closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek into Phil’s palm.

“What, Clint? What am I?” Phil’s hand dropped to Clint’s shoulder, thumb softly stroking over Clint’s neck. He rested his forehead against Clint’s and tried to find the right words. “Am I completely smitten with you? Yes. Am I wishing we could be together for real? God, yes, more than anything.”

Clint opened his eyes so he could look at Phil, unsure if he’d actually heard him correctly. “I...I...I want that too. I’ve wanted that for a long time.”

Phil huffed out a harsh laugh. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

Leaning back, Clint tilted his head, confused. “What do you mean?”

Backing Clint up against the counter, Phil leaned in and ghosted a kiss on Clint’s lips. “I mean, I’ve had feelings for you too. For longer than I can remember, Clint. I thought there’d be no way you’d ever return them. I’m your handler and your boss, I didn’t think you’d ever see me as anything but that.”

Clint grinned and kissed Phil this time. It wasn’t some light, barely-there brush of lips this time, though. Clint kissed Phil as though it was essential as if he wanted to prove to Phil just how much he’d been wanting this all to happen. 

Phil kissed Clint back just as fervently, hands grasping at Clint’s waist, and rucking up his shirt, trying to get at bare skin. Clint groaned as callused fingers moved over his ribs and he caught Phil’s lips for another kiss, wanting nothing more than to have the taste of Phil on his lips while his own hands worked to get under Phil’s shirt. 

When Phil hissed, Clint pulled back fast and started looking him over. “Phil? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Taking a step back, Phil tried for a smile but failed and grimaced. “Ribs.” Phil moved back into Clint’s space and hugged him lightly, burying his face in Clint’s neck. “Finally get your hands on me the way I’ve always dreamed and I’m hurt.”

“Shit! Phil, I’m sorry. You should go sit. I’ll bring the food out and check your ribs again. Okay?”

“Okay.” Phil started to back away but stopped in the doorway. “And Clint?”

“Yeah?”

Stealing another kiss, Phil said, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now go sit. Can’t believe I’m the one having to tell you to rest since you’re hurt.”

Clint heard Phil laughing as he left the kitchen and turned his attention back to their food. He got the stove turned on and while he waited for the soup to reheat, he filled a glass with water and brought it to Phil. Phil was back on the sofa and attempting to reach the first aid kit without straining his ribs when Clint came in. 

Clint watched him for a second before asking. “Want some help?”

Phil winced and leaned back against the cushions. “Yes, please.”

Handing him the glass of water, Clint got some more painkillers out of the kit and passed them to Phil before cracking the other ice pack. He handed it to Phil and unwrapped the now warm ice pack from Phil’s chest. Taking the fresh pack, Clint carefully positioned it and rewrapped Phil’s ribs. 

Once he was done, Phil let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Clint.”

“You’re welcome. Now relax, Phil. Please? Food’s almost ready and I’m sure evac will be here soon.”

“Tomorrow morning according to Fury. Had a message from him when I woke up. That's why I came into the kitchen before.” Phil closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch before making a shooing motion with his hand. “Go fetch our food.”

Clint laughed and patted Phil’s knee before going back to the kitchen and pouring the soup into two bowls. Handing Phil his bowl, Clint felt their fingers brush and found he was now extra aware of every time he and Phil touched.

“Sit and eat, Clint. One of us injured is enough. We don’t need you passing out from hunger and exhaustion as well.”

Taking a seat, Clint tried to eat, but it was hard with Phil so close. It was a small couch so they were pressed together from hip to knee and Clint could feel the warmth coming from Phil and he loved every second of it. Having Phil right there was both comforting and distracting all at once. 

“Clint, eat. Your soup is getting cold.”

Taking a spoonful, Clint didn’t even register the taste. “Thanks. I’m a little…”

“Distracted?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

Clint laughed and took another bite. “Glad I’m not the only one unable to think of anything but the hot guy next to him.”

Phil choked on his soup and stared at Clint. “What?”

“Come on, Phil. You know you’re attractive. You may hide under those suits, but I’ve seen you in the gym and watched you spar. Do you have any idea how many times I had to end my own workouts early because you were taking down some loudmouth rookie and I couldn’t stop staring at broad shoulders and muscular arms?” 

Phil’s blush covered him from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest and he stared at Clint trying to see if he was lying. “I had no idea. You really found that hot?”

Setting his bowl on the table, Clint leaned into Phil’s side. “So hot, Phil. Knowing all the power lay under those impeccable suits supplied me with more than a few fantasies.”

His own soup now forgotten, Phil knew Clint wasn’t lying. There was a spark in his eyes as he spoke and Phil could see him remembering what Phil looked like when he was in the gym. “Clint, I’m at a loss. I never thought you’d see me that way.”

Taking the bowl from Phil’s hands, Clint set it next to his own before giving Phil a bright, brilliant smile. “I didn’t at first. What got my attention was that you listened to me, Phil. You took my opinions into consideration and they mattered. It was after that I saw you take down Sitwell without even breaking a sweat and my crush just got worse from there.”

Phil laughed and took Clint’s hand in his. “Jasper usually needs to be taught a lesson or two and I’m always happy to oblige.” 

“Can we move this to the bedroom maybe? I know we can’t get up to much, but I’d really like to kiss you again” Clint burrowed closer to Phil and buried his face against his neck, happy to be on his uninjured side so he could do what he had been craving. Pressing his lips to Phil’s throat, Clint let his voice drop low and rough. “And a few more times after that.”

Phil felt his breath catch at the touch of Clint’s lips. “I want that too.” Phil’s voice was breathy and he reached out for Clint wanting to something to hold onto so he wouldn’t feel like he was going to float away. His hand landed on Clint’s thigh and Phil took a moment to let himself just enjoy the feel of the firm muscle under his fingers before saying, “we have a lot of kisses to make up for.”

Clint whimpered as Phil’s hand slid up his thigh a little. “Fuck, Phil.” 

Phil gave Clint’s thigh one last squeeze before forcing himself to let go and start to stand. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom, Barton. Don’t forget the blanket.”

Clint watched Phil disappear into the bedroom before grabbing the blanket and following him. Stepping inside, Clint took a moment and just stared at Phil lying back on the pillows. Phil stared back and Clint and grinned, patting the spot next to him. "Clint, are you going to kiss me or not?"


End file.
